


This unforeseen friendship of ours

by The_Dwelf



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: At least not completely, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Glóin is a bit dead I'm afraid, Good Parent Thranduil, M/M, Parent Glóin, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dwelf/pseuds/The_Dwelf
Summary: F.A. 15. At Glóin's funeral, Thranduil has a surprising tale to tell.---“Your choice to attend the funeral is honourable.”Bold of you to come. You held him captive once, and now you claim the right to mourn him among his people. Ludicrous.“It is only fair that I pay my last respects to the father of my son’s consort.”Why don’t you show some respect, as well? You are not half the Dwarf that Glóin was. Stop acting as if this day was for you, as if I came to see you.---“Well. If they endured all of this, maybe they really are made for each other, as they like to claim.”“Indeed, Master Dwarf. Perfectly matched hotheads.”“Stiff necks.”“Reckless.”“They do make a good couple, though.”“I absolutely refuse to answer.”---"That night we realized three things; first, this world was really changing, and for good maybe. [...] Second, we were responsible for bringing into the world the most inconsiderate, thick-headed groundbreakers ever seen on Arda. [...] And third. Someday, I was going to be the only one left with such responsibility to bear."





	This unforeseen friendship of ours

_Erebor, F.A. 15. _

What a sight.

Many could hardly believe what they witnessed. King Thranduil willingly walking into Erebor was a marvel enough, and yet the true wonder was the deference that Thorin III Stonehelm, King under the Mountain, showed to him.

Sure, it was a matter of politics. Alliance, family ties and a fair share of common sense had improved the relationship between Erebor and Eryn Lasgalen after the War of the Ring. Now, despite “common sense” being the most unbelievable of the three, “family ties” might be more effective in awakening curiosity.

“It is a great honour indeed to welcome your Majesty here in our Mountain, King Thranduil.” _You couldn’t bother yourself before, could you? Arrogant, pointy-eared Elf._

“I rejoice at the sight of Erebor flourished again, King Thorin.” _Do not believe for an instant that I came to see your bearded, annoying face. My neck will hurt for days after spending even few hours among your short kin._

“Your choice to attend the funeral is honourable.” _Bold of you to come. You held him captive once, and now you claim the right to mourn him among his people. Ludicrous._

“It is only fair that I pay my last respects to the father of my son’s consort.” _Why don’t you show some respect, as well? You are not half the Dwarf that Glóin was. Stop acting as if this day was for you, as if I came to see you._

“Very well. The ceremony will start in a few hours, you may take this time to rest from your journey, if you wish. I will escort you personally when the time comes.” _I have no choice but to keep an eye on you like a nursemaid. Your bare presence could be enough for some here to lose their temper, and a diplomatic incident is the last thing I want._

“Thank you.” _Is that so? Sent to sleep in my room like a child, then accompanied by the King himself. Who is it that you cannot trust, Thorin? Me, or your own people?_

Thranduil had nearly left the throne room when the Dwarf called him back, and at that the Elvenking nearly rolled his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Given your political role and your relation to the deceased, it would be appropriate if you gave a little speech. It is customary, you see.”

Thorin smiled, a tiny, mischievous smile. He was trying to discomfort Thranduil, of course. To give him some of his own medicine: after all, wasn’t the Elf causing many Dwarves to feel uneasy?

“I see. I will not disrespect your customs.”

Answered the King of Eryn Lasgalen, the smile on the Dwarf’s face mirrored on his own. _You will like this one, Gl__ó__in. Tell your Aul__ë__ to watch._

\---

Thranduil did not expect such a crowd. Surrounded by what appeared like hundreds of dwarves, he could feel their disdain on him. Many glanced at him, wondering why on Arda had he shown up. Not that he cared of what a bunch of Dwarves thought about his own business, and yet he was not used to being regarded with such distrust, not anymore. He had visited Aglarond twice, and several times delegations of the Dwarves of Aglarond had been to Eryn Lasgalen. Gimli and Legolas had been working as hard as they could to keep old prejudices and grudges out of their own colonies and, apparently, they had been quite successful in that.

But Erebor- that was different. Too much history, too deep wounds. There was a sort of peace after the Battle of Five Armies, and alliance after Sauron’s fall. All agreed that the Free Folks should not fight each other, but it was too soon to expect more. Despite that, Thranduil felt quite at ease. He was at the front, with King Thorin and King Elessar. He was at his rightful place among royalty. Next to them stood the family of the deceased, namely, Gimli, his mother, Dwalin and Legolas. The latter he loved; the first two he could stand. It was only a matter of ignoring Glóin’s cousin-or-something.

The ceremony was solemn, deep laments were sung in low voices that neither Thranduil nor Legolas dared to attempt. Not that they knew the words, in any case. Then followed the speeches.

The first to speak was Lìm, Glóin’s widow. She was brief, for love is undying and needs not many words. She spoke with her heart, and reached many others.

After her went Gimli, who was struggling to keep himself together. However, he was skilled with words, as Legolas often liked to point out, and managed to speak with a slightly broken voice of all the love and admiration he had for his father.

Then followed Legolas, and after him Dwalin and Thorin. Only Thranduil and the son of Arathorn still had to go. Now, if the Elvenking had understood correctly the complex rules of Dwarven customs, foreign royalty who attended a funeral in Erebor was supposed to say a few words right after the family and the King of Erebor, and it was not required from them to be extremely deep. It was often a diplomatic matter, the act of showing respect in the name of one’s people. Thranduil, however, was Glóin’s in-law, not close enough to speak during the family’s turn, yet enough to have precedence over Aragorn.

As he stepped to move forward, he could see Gimli and Legolas sharing a quick and quite worried look. Untrusting youngsters. Lìm, however, gave him the littlest and yet most earnest of her smiles, to which he answered in kind._ She knew_, obviously.

And that was how King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, former Mirkwood, ended up standing in front of a massive crowd of mourning Dwarves waiting for him to say a couple of formalities and leave. He looked down. Not that he wasn’t looking down while watching the Dwarves in front of him, but he looked even _more_ down, at his feet, where Glóin was resting in his tomb.

_Enjoy. I know you will. _

And thus, it began.

“People of Erebor. I am asked to share a few words with you, and I will gladly accomplish. Others have already said much on Glóin, son of Gróin, and I believe that today the love his family and his people had for him was already comprehensively voiced. Yet I believe that there is something I can add.”

He silently took notice of the arising curiosity that was blooming on some of the faces in front of him. Very well.

“Many mentioned their first meeting with Glóin. I suppose it would not be a good start on my part, as our first meeting was tumultuous to say the least, and some of those presents might remember it still to this day with not little grudge.”

It was not a good start indeed, as many voices raised, muttering in Khuzdul things that Thranduil could not understand but could very easily imagine. Fortunately, all it took was a sharp look from Lìm for dead silence to fall again. Thranduil skilfully suppressed a smirk.

“Now, I would like to speak of the first time I _got to know_ Glóin. Which was 15 years ago, shortly after the birth of the Fourth Age. We met in Minas Tirith, invited through very similar letters, and I am convinced King Elessar Telcontar has not forgotten neither my complaints, nor Glóin’s yelling. Indeed, I dare to suppose that any Dwarf of the Lonely Mountain can remember his yelling as he received the invitation to attend his son’s wedding in Gondor?”

Now some - just some - of the Dwarves actually _laughed_ at this. Many of the Ereboreans had come to terms with the marriage of a Durin’s descendant to an Elf-Prince, but they could very well remember what a shock it was at the time. Aragorn glanced at Legolas, then at Gimli. The three hunters could hardly forget that day in the council room.

_“King Elessar, I can hardly believe you will condescend to this ridiculous joke.”_

_“I am afraid it is no joke, King Thranduil, and I would not call any of it ridiculous. Do I have to remind you that you are talking of two of the Nine Walkers? Their marriage will be a symbol of peace among two races that fought each other for too long.”_

_“Ah! That’s what all this is about? A symbol of peace? A farce, then, Gimli, my son? Tell me that it is. Tell me that you will not truly wed an Elf, that you will not wed the son of Thranduil.”_

_“Nay, Adad. No farce indeed. I would marry Legolas, whatever the race or the consequences.”_

_“What do you know of the consequences, Dwarf? You are but a mortal. You will die in a couple of centuries, three perhaps, and then the consequences will be for my son to bare.”_

_“Adar! My King. Please believe that this was already long discussed between the two of us. And the conclusions to which we came only concerns ourselves.” _

_“Very well. My son, Master Gimli, I see that your choice is made. Do not complain when the euphoria of the victory will wear off, when the memories of your days as shield-brothers will start to fade, and you will become aware of your mistake.” _

_“Are you giving your permission for this nonsense to happen, King Thranduil? Have you grown so soft since the last time I met you?”_

_“That has nothing to do with it. You were in my realm and refused to provide explanations for that. Our sons will soon be Lords of their own colonies, if I understood correctly, and they wish to marry in Gondor with the approval of King Elessar. There is not much I can do to stop this. Had they come to Eryn Lasgalen, at least I could have given your son the same welcome I gave you sixty years ago.” _

_“Adar!”_

_“I would like to see him try...”_

_“Say that again, you arrogant-”_

_“ADAD!” _

“Despite the doubts that we respectfully raised, it was decided that a banquet would be held three days later to celebrate the engagement. Apparently, three days had been enough for the Lady Lìm to come to the wise conclusion that her son’s happiness was something worthy of celebration, regardless of the reason behind it, be it Elf, Dwarf, or else, and she enjoyed the evening. Glóin and I still needed some time to get to that point, and we spent the evening drinking and complaining. Soon the presents were annoyed by our… negative attitude, and started avoiding us, until we could only complain to each other.”

_“And there is more! What fashion will they follow? Dwarven, Elven, or will they marry through a ceremony of Men? My son, wed without Mahal’s blessing? Unthinkable, I tell you, unthinkable!”_

_“Oh, I can hardly bring myself to speak of it, but I am afraid they might be already wed in the ways of the Elves, technically speaking.”_

_“What on Arda are you talking about?”_

_“It is a possibility. Tell me again, how long have they been whatever they say they are?”_

_“In love, you mean? They say it started at the end of the War.”_

_“Two years, then. See now, an elf is wed the moment he lies with- covering your ears will not make it less true.”_

_“If I can’t hear it, it never happened.”_

_“Anyhow, it is customary for royalty to hold a celebration after the union of the- will you stop covering your ears already!”_

_“I will as soon as you will stop mentioning their intercourses!”_

_“What are you, 40?” _

“Eventually, we started a polite exchange of knowledge on Dwarven and Elven traditions on marriage. Which led us to a… blameworthy decision.”

_“If they had any idea of what this thing is doing to their poor, old fathers!”_

_“I would agree with you, but for the ‘old’ part.” _

_“Aren’t you, uhm, something-thousand?” _

_“Anyhow.” _

_“Anyhow?” _

_“They do put us through a good load of stress.” _

_“Aye.” _

_“They do not understand our worries.”_

_“Not at all. They say they love each other, and this I can believe.”_

_“I cannot, honestly, Master Gl_ _ó_ _in.” _

_“But love is not enough, is it? Elf and Dwarf, it cannot last forever.”_

_ “No Dwarf can last forever.” _

_“Yes, well.” _

_“Dwarves are mortal.”_

_ “Right, I know that pretty well. I meant… it cannot last long.”_

_ “No Dwarf can last long, compared to an Elf.”_

_“Will you kindly try to see my point?” _

_“I do. They will probably be sick of each other in a matter of decades.” _

_“Maybe less. A bunch of years and they won’t stand each other anymore.”_

_ “What if there was a way to make them effectively understand this, while letting them taste some of their own medicine, some of the stress they are forcing onto us?”_

_ “I’m listening.” _

_“Tell me more on Dwarven marriage customs.” _

“We agreed that we would arrange the most complicated marriage ever seen on Arda. An Elf and a Dwarf wanted to marry in a city of Men: let them pay no disrespect to the traditions of any of the Folks involved.”

Thranduil glanced at Glóin’s family. He was sure that Lìm had guessed their intentions at the time, but Gimli and Legolas were probably oblivious. Indeed, the two were staring at him fairly confused.

“We insisted on organizing the wedding personally and spent the following two months trying to add any piece of tradition we could remember, constantly questioning King Elessar, our unwitting accomplice, on the ways of men.”

Aragorn gave his friends the most apologetic look he could. He had no idea that they were acting such on purpose. Did Arwen suspect anything? He’d have to ask her.

“We forced our sons to repeat everything in Westron, Sindarin and Quenya, during the ceremony. It is a fortune that Khuzdul and Iglishmek are secret languages, otherwise the wedding would still not have ended to this day. We made them learn and sing a ridiculously vast number of songs, we chose Dwarven dances that were nearly impossible for an Elf to perform, and vice versa. We insistently bothered them with decorations, food, drinks. I do not know at what point exactly we started to find it highly amusing, but I can easily say it was somewhere between me teaching Sindarin and Quenya to Gimli and Glóin trying to convince Legolas to grow a beard.”

_“A beard?”_

_“Indeed. I told him about the wedding braids and beads that he’s required to wear. The poor lad looked desperate.”_

_“What did he say?”_

_“Begged me to let him wear ‘em on his hair. Which would be perfectly fine, to be honest, but I told him that I will think about it only if I don’t find a way to give him a proper beard.”_

_“You can be more subtle than I thought.”_

Legolas felt his stomach twist at the reminder. He had been terrified that Glóin would show up at some point and attach some hair to his face, somehow. Not that Gimli had had it any easier, spending night after night with _Thranduil, _repeating phonemes after him.

“We were convinced that if we stressed them enough, they would understand and step back. They were indeed to their limit, but their determination to get married was clearly beyond question, for they never even thought to renounce. In the end, we failed miserably, as the wedding was a true marvel. Never such a ceremony had been seen on Arda. We had tried to show our sons that it was impossible to merge their cultures and ended up discovering that we were mistaken. Legolas and Gimli got married, absurd as it was.”

_“Well. If they endured all of this, maybe they really are made for each other, as they like to claim.”_

_“Indeed, Master Dwarf. Perfectly matched hotheads.”_

_“Stiff necks.”_

_“Reckless.”_

_“They do make a good couple, though.” _

_“I absolutely refuse to answer.”_

“That night we actually enjoyed the feast. We had organized it ourselves to the last detail, after all. We also realized three things; first, this world was really changing, and for good maybe, as Lady Lìm suggested.”

_“They are seriously overjoyed. Look at them, Thranduil, how is this possible?”_

_“You ask the wrong person. If someone had told me three years ago, I would have had Legolas locked in the dungeons rather than sending him to Imladris.”_

_“Are you addicted to throwing living things in your dungeons or what?”_

_“I can quit any time.”_

_“I would enlighten the two of you, if I’m allowed.”_

_“Lìm?”_

_“Dear husband, King Thranduil, you might have noticed that nothing is as we knew it anymore. The Age of Men has begun. There is peace among the Free Folks. No longer the Shadow lingers upon us, we no longer fear what we might encounter into the woods of the Wilderland. Our sons stand amongst those who we must thank for bringing us peace and freedom. They are as happy as we were on our wedding day. They just had to work harder to get over old prejudices and see each other. If that is not enough to make us proud, I honestly fail to see what it is.”_

“Second, we were responsible for bringing into the world the most inconsiderate, thick-headed groundbreakers ever seen on Arda.”

_“They are really performing all of the dances.”_

_“One of them will break an ankle, sooner or later.”_

_“Your Legolas really cannot stomp.”_

_“Elves are naturally light on their feet.” _

_“But he’s trying so hard.” _

_“I look forward to seeing Gimli pirouetting.”_

_“Do you think we went a bit too far?”_

_“Not at all.”_

“And third. Someday, I was going to be the only one left with such responsibility to bear.”

_“Can you promise me something?”_

_“It depends on what you want me to promise.” _

_“Will you keep an eye on them, when my wife and I are gone?”_

_“Yes, this I can do.”_

_“One more thing.”_

_“Don’t push it.”_

_“Take care of Legolas when Gimli is gone as well.”_

_“…”_

_“Oi?”_

_“Why do you care?”_

_“Your son is not so bad. I think I like him enough. Maybe I will get attached to him over time, so yes, I care, but there is more. See, Gimli loves him. He could not bear the idea of leaving him alone. Take care of your son and help mine to die a little more peacefully.”_

_“This I can do as well.”_

_“Thank you.”_

“We have always been in contact after the wedding. We started to write each other regularly and met in Aglarond and Ithilien when our sons invited us to attend events and celebrations. Lately, the journey to Rohan had become too long for him, and therefore Glóin was my guest in Eryn Lasgalen every time Gimli and Legolas were, and some more times he came just to visit me.”

_“Bored? You?”_

_“Yes, well. My wife is- uh, in the Iron Hills. Her cousin is sick, you know.”_

_“And then you decided to kill some time in Eryn Lasgalen.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Gl_ _ó_ _in, you need no excuse to visit. Just let me know in advance, next time, so I can have someone waiting for you at the eaves of the forest. I wonder how you managed not to get lost.”_

Thranduil was aware that he was plainly shocking half of the Lonely Mountain. He and Glóin had never really tried to hide the fact that they were on such good terms, yet nobody but Lìm had realized. She was smiling, while her son looked almost ridiculous in his astonishment. Legolas, next to him, stared at his father with focused, narrowed eyes, hanging on his every word, wondering how on Arda had he missed that.

“I had promised him to reciprocate his visits, sooner or later. Alas! Now I deeply regret delaying for so long, and I can only hope that this counts as one.”

_“Will you ever come to Erebor?”_

_“I hardly believe I would be a welcome guest.”_

_“You would be my welcome guest, stubborn pointy-eared King, and Lìm’s as well. I am sure we can find a bed long enough for you.” _

_“You are kind, Gl_ _ó_ _in. But you know very well why I cannot simply visit Erebor.”_

_“You were quite a prick back then. Don’t give me that look, now.”_

_“I will pretend I didn’t hear.”_

_“Surely there must be a way for you to visit, now. Some diplomatic stuff. The realms are allied, after all, just make up some political stuff and- are you laughing at me?”_

_“I… I don’t know… ah… what you’re talking about.”_

_“Please. I would teach you a couple of things on proper meals. And I would be happy to shock some certain Dwarves that apparently still have problems with your son.”_

_“Fine. If I can get sick over your barely cooked meat and shock some of your people by walking around in your company, I am content. I will find an excuse to visit. I do need one, unfortunately.”_

“As I said, Glóin and I used to send each other letters quite regularly. He asked me something in his last. It was a big question, indeed, and I could not bring myself to send my answer, though I had written it. Again, I regret I delayed. Perhaps my answer will reach him still.”

With that, Thranduil pulled out a closed envelope and bent over to place it carefully in the tomb, among the various tokens left by others. Flowers, weapons, jewellery. He recognized one of his son’s arrows, and he was surprised to see one of the elven brooches of Lòrien. Did Gimli bear to part with it? He glanced at Glóin’s face. He looked so, well, _dead_. How could they do that? His wife and son, on the verge of collapsing as they made their speech with him so close and so _dead_, and still managing to keep themselves together. How could they not fall apart, not give in to fear and loss? He got up, his eyes annoyingly stinging. He looked more collected than he really was as well, apparently. But he always looked collected, so that didn’t really count.

“Master Glóin. You left me with a bunch of old letters and a painful reminder of the reason why I had stopped getting attached to mortals long ago. I hope that you will have your well-deserved rest in Aul… Mahal’s Halls.”

With that, Thranduil silently walked back to his place. He nodded at the wide smile his very bearded son-in-law gave him. He had a feeling he was going to endure a long, long talk with Gimli. Aragorn moved forward then, looking perfectly regal and wise as ever, and yet internally panicking at being the only one with a formal speech. He barely knew Glóin, after all, and was there mainly for Gimli. “My friends.” He started, and the ceremony went on.

\---

Dear Glóin,

I told you that you were going to enjoy that. I apologize for never shocking your people by walking with you through Erebor. I hope that my speech will shock them enough to make up for it, and that the curiosity on the “big question” that I completely made up will never wear off.

I have not been as good to Gimli as you were to my son. We are not as close as you and Legolas were. I am not the warm-hearted type that you are, and to be fair, your son is not exactly the one that reaches out. Forced late-night Sindarin lessons might be considered a bad start, do you think?

But I will do better. I promised you I would keep an eye on them. I believe your wife might have something to teach me on the matter. Trust her, if not me: the lads, as you used to call them, are in good hands.

I can hardly remember the last time I let a mortal get so close to me. Dwarves, men, hobbits, you all have the nasty habit of dying and we are condemned to stay and mourn. You could have at least the decency to last as long as your lifespan allows. But no, _mellon_, you left too soon, and I am torn.

We may meet again, one day very, very far from this. Do not forget me in the meantime. I shall forever miss your noisy company.

Your good friend,

Thranduil Oropherion

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've had this in my mind for a while, so here it goes, in the end. English isn't my first language, so if you notice anything wrong please feel free to tell me.  
I haven't published fanfiction on a website for a while, and I think I've never published anything in English before, so I think I'm a little nervous honestly.  
Please leave me a comment if you enjoyed it or leave kudos! I would love to write some more on this fandom.


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